


Tap tap tap tap, I don't remember

by Lumiel_lightbringer



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America The First Avenger, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst, Cryofreeze (Marvel), Cryogenics, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Memory Loss, Muteness, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Temporary Blindness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:07:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25955701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumiel_lightbringer/pseuds/Lumiel_lightbringer
Summary: The alternate Winter Soldier mask-removal scene no one asked for.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	Tap tap tap tap, I don't remember

"What the hell?"

Eyes burning, burning burn burn through confusion and cold. A voice, talking, asking, a touch with hands too warm, warm warm burning. The Asset blinks, blinks and its malfunctioning.

"Oh my god."

Its Handler - please be its Handler. Its Handler knows how to fix it. Its hurts, wires sparking and gears frozen, something hot melting melting melting down its ear, throat, the side of its leg and all over its arm. Metal and flesh burning and freezing and the skin's peeling away. Please.

"Hey, hey-" Please, sir, "You with me?" What? No. Those aren't - "<Longing,>" and "<Rusted,>" and "<Seventeen,>". What?

Blue blue blue stares at the red, red coating on red skin and red stained metal, red painted star. Blue and red and there's grey, somewhere, somewhere behind - but grey is like silver, and its red and silver, so blue and white and grey can't be too far off. But where's the little creature? The Asset always liked it. It stared at it during check-ups and it would talked to the little thing when its Handlers were busy. It was so nice. Although its Handlers never liked when it got red. Only ever the Asset. Red red red. It is red and this Handler is blue. 

"Alright, easy- easy," Finally.

Warm hands and tensed arms pull it down, "Sam-" Sam? "He's awake, he's- alive."

"Shit."

The grey is near, touching and infecting it with a dulled silver. Not as warm, not as large, more tense and tighter grips. Grey and brown and something black that it recognizes. Where is its weapon? Maybe later. There is no mission yet. Why is there no mission? Its malfunctioning.

It makes a noise, falling forward and being caught by blue, "I got you- I got you." A grunt, it's lifted up, leaning on blue and being supported by grey. They take it to the Chair.

"Set him right here."

It sets its arms on the rests, head leaning back as it breathes heavily. It clenches its right fist, the left still uncontrollable between cold cold cold and broken broken broken.

Two Handlers? Well it's had more confusing situations. Not really. But it can adapt. Soon. Right now, right now it is malfunctioning and needs a check-up, needs repairs and its arm back and its eyes thawed. Its skin screams and tears at the seems. It needs stitches.

"Try and- Sam can you, find something on him? Is there anything? He shouldn't be here."

"Yeah, on it."

Blue on blue stares at it. "You with me now?"

It blinks, blinks and it burns. It does it again. Feels bad but good.

"Can you speak?"

Blink blink blink, can't speak but it can blink, can always blink but sometimes it forgets. Part machine but still man. Bad bad bad. Man is not optimal for missions.

"Okay..."

"Steve," Steve? Steve...Steve. Steve steve steve. What is a steve? is it like sam? It does not understand anything right now. "This guy's HYDRA."

"Well, yeah." The steve speaks.

"No, I mean. He's HYDRA. 'The New Fist of HYDRA', according to Arnim Zola."

"Zola?"

The Asset knows that. Zola is a name. Perhapes steve and sam are names too. Who knows. It looks up, tips its head toward the noise - where is Zola?

"Yeah. Apparently he's a POW from World War II..." The sam trails off, and the Asset wonders when it will get its repairs. Didn't the previous Handlers give them its manual?

"Shit." The steve breathes, blue is gone and then the sam is back, because these Handlers really like to talk - why, it does not know; "Alright, we got a bunch of Russian here and some German- all I can get from this, and that is that he's definitely not consenting to all this."

"Get Natasha down here, I'll try and get the mask off him."

"Hey," Blue is back. Blue on blue with red and white flecked about. It can't see. "I'm gonna try and get that off you." Warm touches the black, the muzzle, "Stay still."

It stays stock still, and the hand feels about. They obviously don't have its manual.

A few snaps and clicks, and then the blue comes back, confused, "It won't come off." Explaining to it, as if it can't tell that much itself, "I'm sorry, just- we'll get it in a minute."

It blinks.

The blue shifts, makes a lot of noise, then talks again, curious and curiouser about the Asset as if they hadn't purchased it.

"Can you talk to me in uh, morse?" It blinks. "Do you know morse?"

It looks around, carefully gaging the question. It does not know this word.

"Wait, nevermind that's... Okay, how about this," The hand comes down to the table to its left, taps once, "This can be yes," Twice, "This can be no," Thrice, "And that's I don't know. Yeah?"

Finally, some sense.

It blinks, taps once, and the blue radiates something warm.

"Alright, are you- do you know where you are?"

Well that's vague. Once - yes, home. HYDRA. Base.

"Do you know who brought you here?"

Still very vague. Once - yes, HYDRA officers. Mission Accomplices. Handlers. 

"Alright... Uh, did you- sign up, to be 'The-' uhm...'The New Fist of HYDRA'?"

What?

It blinks, thrice. It doesn't understand these words.

"Okay." The blue doesn't sound pleased, but after a moment and no movement, no metal clamps and angry sparks, "Do you have a name?"

What? Twice - no. Wait- once. No no that's- that's thrice. But- weapons don't have names. But it is the Asset. And that sounds like a name. Does it? What? Four times. Again again again. Tap tap tap tap tap, five, tap tap tap tap tap tap, six, tap tap tap tap tap tap tap, seven, confused confused confuesd - name?

"I'm- I'm sorry, was that- was that too much? I'm sorry." The warm covers its right hand, and it flexes its fingers underneath, then clenches into a fist. Tenses. "Easy."

Unseeing eyes bob and try to focus. Confused.

One two three, tap tap tap, I don't know. 

"You don't know if you have a name?"

No. Yes. Tap tap tap. I don't know.

"That's- that's okay." The blue squeezes its hand, what? "You don't need one, we can- what can we call you?"

Tap tap tap tap, four because I don't know times two. This is not- "Right, right, sorry. We'll figure that out later. J-"

Door, open. Red. Red and black and the grey is back. Two greys now, purple? Grey. What?

Four Handlers? Too much, really. Maybe these are Mission Assists? Hopefully.

There's rustling, Russian and English, mumbled words and then red and black joins blue and white and red. The black comes closer, the blue back.

"<Soldier?>"

It blinks, taps. Yes.

The blue explains, from behind and then, "<You understand me?>"

Tap, yes.

"<Longing.>"

Ah, there it is. They just needed an Activater. Stupid, them not having one on stand-by, but these Handlers seem new at this.

It leans back, head hitting the halo, eyes burning. Blink blink blink, remember to blink.

"What're you doing? Natasha!" Tap tap tap, it does not know this word.

"He's not activated yet. I was testing."

It doesn't continue, no "<Rusted>" or "<Seventeen>" or "<Daybreak>". One word leaving it wanting, back arching in discomfort.

"Hey, easy." Black touches it and speaks, "<Is Russian easier than English?">

Tap tap tap, I don't know. They are both languages, yes. Easier? Neither is easier. They are spoken, it listens, it responds in taps, once, twice, thrice. That is all it knows.

Then there's nothing. Blue and black disappearing to the side, and, after a moment, grey. The first grey, it thinks. Grey with dark brown and black-familiar. It gets closer.

"He's hopped up on some serious shit." Not talking to the Asset, it notes, sometimes bright entering its eyes then its gone after two seconds. "We need to get him out of here, to a medic."

"You trust him?" A new voice, the second grey. Light brown. 

"Hell no, but we can't leave him here."

Light brown hums. Shifts. Tap tap tap tap, hello. Tap tap tap tap tap, what's happening?

Blue speaks, shouts, "What the hell, Natasha?" More more more, too many names? Things. Blue and grey and black and light brown are easy. Steve and sam and natasha are not. Foreign. Confusing. Stop. Tap tap, no. Tap tap tap tap, stop.

"I had to be sure it was him." Black, black and blue - eyes. No, not eyes, but eyes can be black and blue, but only one. Black and blue wrapping around a brighter blue. What? Tap tap tap. "They call him <the Winter Soldier>, the Winter Soldier."

Black is turned away, blue and pale facing the Asset. Tap tap tap tap, I'm bored.

Black talks of a mission, a mission the Asset had that apparently they shared. The Asset succeeded. It thinks this is a good thing, tap, yes, but black's tone is not good. Tap tap tap, thrice and once and confused? Four times. Tap tap tap tap. I'm confused.

"He's getting restless, Steve." Grey speaks, turning. Light brown is too close. It blinks, and something brighter flickers into its vision, "Hey, you seeing me, big guy?"

Tap tap tap, I don't know. Light brown and greys and purple. Faceless blorbs. That's what they all are. That's what they always are until they fix its eyes.

"He says he doesn't know." The steve translates, "Once is yes, twice no, three is I don't know."

"Got it." Light brown turns back, "Making everything complicated. You can shake your head, y'know."

Tap tap, no, it doesn't know. Shake? It tries. It hurts. Tap tap, no. Bad. Stop.

"That hurt? Alright." Light brown is quiet, close, "Can you see me if I'm close?" It closes in, tap tap. No. Tap tap tap tap, stop. Tap tap tap tap tap, go away. "Can you see anything?"

Tap, yes, colours.

"We've been here long enough," The blue interrupts light brown, "Clint," tap tap tap, new word, new something, tap tap tap tap, stop. "Prep the jet. Nat's gathering any other intel, Sam can you help me get him outta here?"

"He's heavier than you, man, I might need a warm-up."

A noise, something it's heard once, twice, when waiting between cryofreeze and missions. HYDRA agents and white squares, something familiar and silver and occasionally a scream when it goes wrong - right? It doesn't know.

The grey grabs its right, blue on the left, "Alright, three, two, one." 

It's hefted up, feet struggling for friction on the floor. "Easy,"

Metal whirrs, tries to wake up, defrost. Grabs the blue, locks up, stays there. Right taps, tap tap tap tap, I can walk.

They don't understand, "I know, man. I know." No, you don't. Tap tap tap tap, let go. Tap tap tap tap, give me more words. Tap tap tap tap, let me speak, let me speak you ask me questions but don't let me speak - tap tap tap tap, I'm malfunctioning. "C'mon."

The air stings, suddenly, grey becoming white and blue. It hurts. The colours mesh together until its stumbling into blue, the other blue, breathing heavy. Tap tap tap tap, fix my eyes. They reach the jet, it assumes, because light brown is there and the sound of engines is familiar. It is seated in a new chair, not its Chair, and it wonders why they aren't fixing it. Perhaps it's getting an upgrade at another facility. It wants to see. Tap tap tap tap.

Leather binds it down at the torso, and it leans its head back, breathing loudly. It can't quiet it down.

"Here you go, big guy." Something soft and warm touches its shoulders, light brown in front of it, "That good, or you need another?" One and two, it assumes, but it doesn't know. Thrice. Tap tap tap, three taps, I don't know, and light brown comes back, and gets another, "Test it out. If you want it off you can just toss it on the floor."

It doesn't understand these words, 'can can can' 'just' after and 'test it out', there are not missions, these are not weapons, why are they giving the Asset options? The Asset doesn't do options. It is a yes or no machine, a weapon with a trigger. A gun doesn't have a maybe button, what makes them think it does?

Black joins, light brown disappears, and then the cold halts, the engines whir, and the jet lifts.  
  


\- - - - -  
  


"Hey, you with me?..." 

"I don't think anyone's home, Steve."

A puff of breath hits its face, and it blinks. Makes a noise - oh, right. I can do that. They don't seem to notice. The muzzle must muffle it. It always assumed they just didn't care. Maybe both.

Tap, yes. I'm awake. Its hand doesn't move. It tries to frown, nothing happens. Makes another noise. It can do that. Can't move. No taps.

It blinks, once. Twice, thrice, four and five times, look at me. One two three four five, I'm malfunctioning. One two three four five, fix me. Fix me fix me fix me fix me fix me - fix me now.

"Oh- no, he's here. Look."

Blue is back, "Hey! Are you okay?"

Twice, blink blink, no. Three four five six, help.

"Can you move? You've been still for the past hour."

Five, help. Two, can't move. Five, fix me.

Something soft, another layer, "You'll be alright, I'm here." Blue's voice is gentle, "How about you try to sleep?" It's an order, the Asset thinks. One, yes, it can do that.

"Great." Blue doesn't leave, it stares, "Do you- do you want me to go?"

Wonderful question, if only it understood. One two three, blink blink blink, I don't know.

"Alright." The steve doesn't know either, apparently. It frowns, wants to frown, but that hurts. Its face hurts. Everything hurts, now that the Asset thinks about it. Why is it called the Asset? It doesn't feel very important. Very essential. Or maybe that's another word. What language is its first? Maybe none. Maybe tap tap tap, maybe English, maybe Russian. It doesn't know. How many languages does it know? It thinks, thinks thinks thinks, and there are quite a few, all things considered. Why does it need to know all these languages? They only talk to it in two, and it only speaks one, tap tap tap tap, and that one they never speak back. It's malfunctioning, tap tap tap tap, give me more words.

It moans, head leans back - it can do that much, at least - hits where the halo should be. Its not soft, but it isn't hard. It hits it again, this time with purpose, and repeats it. One two three, I don't know, four five six, let me speak, seven eight nine, I'm malfunctioning, ten eleven-

"Hey, no, no, stop. Stop." The words finally register when something actually soft stands between its head and the not-hard. The blue is close. "None of that." It's being scolded, it did bad. Wrong. Blink blink, no, three four, I'm sorry, five six, fix me. Blue doesn't understand. Blue still doesn't understand. It flexes its fingers- right hand working, right hand operational. Tap tap tap tap, please.

"You keep- you keep doing that." It sounds frustrated, the Asset thinks. It knows this because that is the word it uses for itself, when it feels how the blue sounds. It thinks it is smart, but no one ever tells it anything. Why don't they trust it? Tap tap tap tap, I'm malfunctioning. "I don't know what you're saying." It says, "I'm sorry. I can- wait here." Oh yes, as opposed to all the moving its been doing. Tap tap tap tap, I am not operational, sir.

Blue leaves, returns, something is in its hand. Hard, warm. It's humming. A machine?

"Can you type out what you wanna say?"

Tap tap tap, what does this mean?

"Like this."

The warm is gone, back, and then its hand is led to its face. Bright and blurry stares at it. It blinks. Light brown speaks, calls over, "He said he can't see well. I think he's got a concussion, maybe. Or maybe he's blind."

"Oh. I'm sorry." It brings it away, sighs, "I'm sorry, I can- do you know sign language?"

It blinks, taps thrice, I don't know.

Another frustrated sound, then, "Well me neither, so we can make our own, yeah?"

Once, yes, okay.

"Can I touch you?" 

Tap, blink, once, yes. They have been, already, but alright.

The blue takes its right hand completely and oh that is not pleasant- shifts the fingers so the thumb is out, at the ceiling, "This means good." Moves, turns the thumb to face the floor, "Bad." The wall, "Fine. This- this means fine, I mean. Got it?"

Blink, yes.

"Let's add some more," Its flesh hand it moved, manhandled while the left is immobile. So that's why it asked.

The palm opened, fingers up and closed together. To the muzzle, "Hungry." Shifted, fingers curled and thumb locking them in place, to the muzzle, "Thirsty. Okay?"

Fingers move, feels right, forefinger and thumb touch. Okay. The noise again - the happy one, it thinks. Words file in, but none make sense. Happy noise will work, for now. It can ask later. - and, "Yeah, yeah, okay."

"So, how do you feel?"

Thumb down, bad, head hurts, skin dry, eyes burning. Can't see. I'm malfunctioning.

"What hurts? You can just- point."

It frowns but that hurts, so face, mouth. Muzzle. Bad. Thumb down. Eyes, burn. It makes a motion, squeezing and then boom, like fire. Arm, left, it's broke. Make a face, points again, at cheeks, forehead. Hurts. Vague, palm out, fingers splayed. Everything. Wave wave wave. Everything.

"Everything hurts?" Tap, yes.

"I'm sorry." What? "We can't give you anything just yet, but we'll be home soon. I'd ask if ice would help, but."

Grey snorts, and, alright, fair.

"Try to sleep, we'll wake you up when we're there."

Finally, a clear order. It shuts its eyes, shuts its mind. Rests.  
  


\- - - - -

  
The Asset wakes to blue and warm. Warm on its cold face, the soft gone, and the voice back, "Time to get up, pal."

It shifts, sits up, lurches and is caught by the blue. It stands, leans with its right, finds gription on the floor, walks with only one side helping. 

"You got it?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're good."

The grey is gone, then, and they move together, down the ramp, into the bright and cool.

It feels nice. Thumb up, to the sky, good. "Feeling better?" The steve asks, it nods, this time. Head feels better. The movement jars it a bit, and it stumbles, but the blue is strong, catches the Asset by the side.

"Almost there."

Red and silver and yellow, a lot of light, then pale and dark brown appear - two of them, but one is taller, with more dark brown then the other. 

"Alright, here we go." There's a noise, elevator, its mind tells it, the doors making noise and the shaking floor giving it away. A beep, and its leaning into the blue, blinking. This is all new, all new. Perhaps HYDRA sold it. Was it not good enough? Thumb down, bad. Bad bad bad. Tap tap, blink blink, twice; no.

"Breathe, we'll gonna get you some help. Just a little further." The whirring, doors part, and they enter a white white white room with white white white and some black and a hint of blue in the corner.

Soft, a gurney, and its vision blacks out.

The Asset comes to in what feels like seconds, but what was probably hours, later. It's used to this.

It blinks once, twice, three four five and it can see.

Pale and black becomes a face. A labcoat and tied back hair as a needle hits its vein. It makes a noise, muffled by the muzzle, looks around. Eyes fixed, beside it, the dark brown from before sits, a man with short hair and a goutee works on its arm. Sparks and silver and black.

"Uhp- Frankenstein lives!" He calls, and it blinks. What?

"Tony!" The blue hisses, and it turns to see the steve clearly. The blue is gone, grey t-shirt and darker sweatpants replacing it. Yellow hair and blue eyes. It blinks, once, twice, thrice, four times and give me hello, I would like to say hello, please.

It waves, makes do.

The man smiles, waves back, "Hey, pal." Kneels, "You remember me?"

Tap, yes, I remember blue and white and a bit of red. 

"Feeling better?"

Thumb up, good, I feel nice. Floating. The air is nice. Cool. Thin so my vision swims but it feels good. Every sensation doubled, tripled, textures and smells and sights and sounds floating down and filling its core with a nice tingly something. Its fingers tap tap tap tap, nice nice nice. Thumb up and tap with the heel, yes. Very good.

He nods, looks up and down the Asset, "I'm glad." He reaches out, nods at the muzzle but doesn't touch, "That'll be off soon, promise. Our guy, Tony," he glares over at the goutee man, "Decided your arm was more interesting. Sorry about that."

It nods, and that feels nice, thumb up, taps, forefinger to thumb; that's okay.

"Already making sentences. I'm proud of you. You've done so good." The blue sounds real, sincere it thinks, and wants to smile. It reaches out pathetically, touches the steve's shoulder. Left. Tap tap tap, I don't know. Taps itself, neck, vein, flexes its arm; I'm strong. Points; you're strong. Its arm, his arm, left left; why is mine metal?

"Oh." He frowns, "Are you asking why I don't have a metal arm?" 

The Asset nods, gestures again; I'm strong. You're strong. Points at itself, points at him, flat palm taps between them. Tap, head tilt; we are the same, yes?

He smiles, but this one is quieter, doesn't shift his eyes like before, "Well, my arm is okay. I-I don't know why your's is metal. You must have lost it. I don't know for sure, though."

Tap, yes, forefinger and thumb, okay. I'm strong, you're strong, we are the same, yes? Gestures and asks, the blue frowns, then opens his mouth, sighs in and out. He understands, smiles. He likes to smile.

"Yeah. Yeah, we're both- we're both supersoldiers." He sits back in the chair, crosses his arms. He's uncomfortable. Or nervous. It can't tell. "I used to be small," He adds, eyes far-off like the Asset's were. Does he need repairs? We are the same, is he an Asset as well? "A man named Doctor Abraham Erskine gave me a medicine, a serum, that made me bigger." He's back, smiles, it reaches his eyes, but it doesn't look the same, "You probably didn't have that choice."

It taps, tap tap tap, I don't know. Don't remember.

"Yeah." He sighs, sits forward, "Natasha- the woman from the base, she spoke Russian to you. She was reading up on your file. They did some nasty stuff to you. I'm sorry." He pauses, then, "You faught in the second World War?"

Tap tap tap, I don't know.

"Oh, right. Yeah, you wouldn't- you wouldn't know." He's awkward, it notices, "Sorry."

"Jesus Christ, get a room." The tony grumbles closing a panel and suddenly life whirs in its arm, and it flexes the fingers, tap tap the man taps on the metal, but he doesn't know their code, so perhaps he doesn't mean no, "How's that feel?"

It touches, feels pressure. There's a lamp, goes to it, feels heat. No pain, thumb up, good. Thank you.

"That thing's really advanced." He comments, and waves for it to sit up. It obeys, understands. Repairs. Finally. It turns to face the steve, and the tony moves its hair away, "Rockstar supersoldier back here. You know KISS? Metallica? Found their secret member. You'd do great in one. That arm know how to play guitar? You got the look down."

These words make no sense, and it blinks three times, and the steve glares, "Shut it, Tony."

"Just making conversation."

"When he can't talk."

"I like those kinds of conversations the best."

The blue rolls his eyes.

The dark brown murmurs as he works, but neither the Asset nor the blue respond. After a few minutes, the grey enters, and it can see him for the first time.

It waves. Hello.

"Hey, man." He looks surprised, too. Perhaps the Asset is smart. They don't expect the wave. Or maybe it's malfunctioning, still. The touch-up isn't done yet, so it isn't punished. It can't tell what is right. Tap tap tap tap. "How you feeling?"

Questions require answers, thumb up, good. The air is nice and the lights are nice and it feels very nice on the inside and outside. Tingly tingling good good good.

"You got a cocktail of drugs in you, I'd hope so." He says, and the Asset thinks it should make the happy noise, but it doesn't know how.

There's a click, a beep, and red.

The dark brown lets go, hands up, and calls, "JARVIS, x-ray this thing." His voice doesn't sound quite so calm, but the Asset doesn't feel nervous.

There's something blue, see-thru, and then the man is looking at a red and yellow thing on his wrist.

An image pops up, "Three bombs have been located, sir, and two kill-switches."

"What the hell?" The grey and blue chorus, and the Asset blinks. These are common knowledge. They didn't know? HYDRA didn't give them its manual.

"Can you disarm them?"

"The first kill-switch has been activated, and he will be under in a few minutes."

"Well what about the others?"

"Is he okay?"

"Tony, what the hell is going on?" Anger, loud, and then the world swims and it blinks.

A hand is on its bicep, holding it up, "Relax, it's just some high level laughing gas, he's going to be out cold but he'll be fine." The dark brown skips over, then the accented omnicious being speaks again, "Deactivated, sir. His jaw and tongue seem to be in full pieces-" 

"There was an alternative?" 

"-It is safe to remove."

The Asset blinks, sees the blue and grabs out with both arms, stops itself from falling.

"You're gonna be fine, pal." The blue reassures, and then the beeping stops, the red vanishes, and there's three more clicks - tap tap tap, I don't know - and a hiss.

The muzzle piece pops out, it gasps, the air tastes weird, and then the mask comes off.

The blue moves away, hard breathes as the plastic and metal comes free.

"Bucky?"

The Asset blinks, the air heavy suddenly.

Thumb down, bad bad bad, this is bad. The air tastes weird. The hand on its bicep tightens, it's helped down to the bed, "Easy, easy, I'm here. I'm here, Buck."

What? Tap tap tap, I don't know.

"That's okay, that's fine, just breathe." Blue eyes dart, "Is he-"

"It's just anaesthesia, sir." The invisible answers, and then the blue looks back, breathes out.

The Asset blinks, once, twice, no, and then it's out.

**Author's Note:**

> So I got bored, and-


End file.
